Ars Gratia Artis
by BloodWineTears
Summary: Five years after fleeing the opera house, Christine finds herself alone. She finds solace in her art, but how long will it be until her past comes back to haunt her?
1. Nightmares

**Ars Gratia Artis – Chapter 1 - Nightmares  
****AN – Hello ladies and gentlefolk! This is my 2****nd**** FanFic; some of you may know me for Meus Dulce Angelus. Anyway without any further ado, enjoy!  
****Skaramoosh x  
****Disclaimer – I do not own POTO.**

**Summary – Five years after fleeing the opera house, Christine finds herself alone. She finds solace in her art, but how long will it be until her past comes back to haunt her?**

Nightmares  
C POV

It's been five years since I last sung. I have tried once or twice, but it brings back too many bad memories. Memories of an opera house, a man masquerading as an angel and such sad, haunting music. Music that will forever plague my dreams... or are they nightmares? I can't tell the difference. I always knew that I would never forget Erik, he made too much of an impact on me. I always knew that Erik was different, but I never imagined that Raoul, a man who had seemed so kind, so gentle, could become more of a monster than he ever was. We married not long after we left Paris. We moved to Italy, it had always been a little fantasy of mine to experience all the grandeur first hand. I remember once when Erik told me of his travels there, of all the fine art and culture. I didn't share this with Raoul. He agreed that Rome is a beautiful city, and for six precious months we were very happy there. Until that one fateful evening.

'Raoul?' I called, hearing him come through the door, a little later than usual. 'Darling is that you?'

'Who else would it be, bitch?'

I gasped. I had never heard him use such language. I knew full well that it existed, but I didn't expect Raoul of all people to throw about a crude term so carelessly. I gave him a good look and cautiously approached him.

'Raoul, you look drunk.'

'So what if I am?' He slurred and staggered over to the sofa.

'Can I tell you something Christine?'

'Of course you can.'

'I don't love you, I never have. It was fun, having to fight with that Erik, he was very entertaining. I wanted your money, until I found out you didn't have any. I've only put up with you this long because I want your body. Give me what I want, sugar.'

His words felt like daggers, each one sinking deep inside me, until there was nothing left but a broken shell, a ghost of a woman.

'I... I cannot consummate a marriage made of greed. It's called making love for a reason.'

My voice shook. He walked over to me, anger radiating from every feature, and hit me hard in the face. I fell to the ground in shock. He stalked into the bedroom, leaving me hurting on the floor. I knew then that I couldn't stay with this man; I threw my essentials into a bag and left my ring on the bedside table. I watched him sleep for a while, and then gave him on last kiss before I left.

I wandered around the streets of Rome for while and thought about what my life had become. I had become so shallow and pedantic, how did that happen? My life used to be enriched with music and dance and Erik, now it was just a void, filled only with my love for Raoul. Now that was gone, I was empty.

I moved back to Paris, as much as a loved Rome, France is my home. I found a little place of my own and busied myself with an education. I studied languages such as Latin and Ancient Greek. I found myself most enthralled by art. Something about how much one simple picture could covey amazed me. I began to visit the famous galleries religiously. I spent every day gazing at beautiful images and occasionally making notes on a particular style or concept that inspired me. From a very young age I had always had an appreciation for things such as this, a trait first installed by my father and continued by Erik. It wasn't long before I began creating my own art. A very interesting man saw me drawing and gave me a part in a gallery, but for a price. My art meant so much to me; it was my only reason to live. So I gave him what he wanted, not that I had much of a choice. My success grew and grew until almost everyone in Paris knew my name; it wasn't long before news of my first art show spread like wildfire across the city. As much as this new turn in my life brought me happiness, I often wondered of Erik. What had become of my angel of music?

E POV  
Christine, my Christine. She is as perfect as an angel could be. I only hoped that she was happy wherever she was, she deserved nothing less than a beautiful life. Such a life could never include me. I spent my days consumed by never ending thoughts of her, even when I busied myself drawing new architecture for the rebuilding of the opera house. It now has even more secret passages and my underground lair has been expanded with extra rooms. I still thought of her when I rebuilt my organ, and when I composed. She fills my mind and my dreams... or are they nightmares? After five painful years, I ventured out into the city of Paris, keeping my cloak well over my face. I overheard the meaningless trivial chatter of the ordinary folk, not really caring for the substance of their conversations, until I overheard one word. _Daaé. _I stood rooted to the spot. Why would my precious Christine be a subject of conversation in Paris? I had been keeping an eye on the opera and much to my despair, she hadn't starred in anything. She hadn't even been a part of the ballet or the chorus. I heard her name again. _Daaé. _Acting on instinct, I followed them, wishing to understand more.

'I heard she's the best artist in all of Paris, why else would she get her own show?'

Artist? Christine? I wondered what on earth was going on. After some eager research I discovered that she had turned to art, and had her own show upcoming to display some of her work. I was proud of her. I had to go to this art show and see her once more.

**AN – What do you think? I have a vague idea of where I want to take this, suggestions are very much welcomed.**

**Skaramoosh x**


	2. Reunited

**Ars Gratia Artis – Chapter 2 – Reunited**

**AN – Hello ladies and gentlefolk! Enjoy the next chapter.  
****Skaramoosh x  
****Disclaimer – I do not own POTO**

Reunited  
E POV

I stood for hours in the cold, wet queue waiting to be granted entry into Christine's art show. As great as my discomfort was I could not help but be happy that _this _many people wanted to see her work. It seems her talents do not lie solely in music. I decided that even if she wasn't attending and I didn't see her, it would be worth it just to experience her artistic prowess. I made me way around the exhibition, awestruck at the pure beauty that radiated from every display. Yet there was also a subtle sadness to each piece, a quiet sense of misery that seemed to hide, ashamed, in the corner of each frame. I stopped by a particularly intriguing painting. It portrayed the image of a young child with a dark shadow behind her. As simple as that image sounds, the sheer complexity of it left me breathless. The expression on the young girls face was a mixture of fear with a strange sense of acceptance. Even the shadow had an odd shape, at first it seemed to be a man, but the longer I looked at it the more the individual strokes made that man turn into a monster. As exquisite as this painting was, I couldn't bear to look at it any longer. I turned to leave and found myself staring into the face of my beloved.

C POV  
'Erik?'

It felt like I was breaking yet becoming complete at the same time. The world seemed to stop spinning and time stood still when I saw his face. I recognised him instantly, for that face has been forever imprinted in my mind's eye. I seized his hand and led him upstairs into a deserted section of the building. The events of those five years may have shattered my morale, but they had also made me bold. He stood gazing at me, amazed and curious.

'Erik... what are you doing here?'

'I came to see you,' he corrected himself, '_your _artwork.'

He looked awkwardly into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction.

'Your art is, in a word, sublime. It has such intricate, fascinating detail!'

He was wonderfully enthused. I wondered if he had felt the same way as me.

'Did you... did you ever think of me after that night?'

'Christine, you have never left my thoughts, not once.'

'Erik, I could have never forgotten you, ever. These past five months have been Hell.'

His expression hardened and his face creased.

'Why is that Christine? Has the Vicomte not made you happy?'

'He did, for six months until he got drunk and revealed his true nature. He told me that he only married me for my body. I left that very night.'

'And you returned here, to Paris and had an extremely successful career without him.'

'It was not without difficulty, I suffer Erik! When I create a piece, I'm putting myself into it; a part of my soul goes into that artwork. The things I have done, the things I have been forced to do I should say... I'm babbling, do forgive me.'

His frown increased he raised a hand to touch my face but thought better of it.

'I'm sorry, Christine. I apologise for every single hardship I have ever put you through.'

I closed my eyes in exasperation. This part of the gallery had random pieces of furniture scattered all over it so I found some nearby chair and sat down.

'I couldn't even begin to explain what I've been through Erik, but none of that is your fault. I made some extremely horrendous decisions.'

He knelt before me.

'Tell me Christine. I can tell that your soul is damaged.'

If he were any other man I wouldn't have told him a thing. But Erik isn't merely a man. He is my angel of music, always has been, always will be. Nothing in the world could ever change that.

E POV  
My beautiful Christine seemed to be lost in her own little world. I was almost dreading the time when I would know what had happened to make her like this, but I also wanted to know. The more I knew the more I could assist my precious songbird in her recovery. She buried her beautiful face in her slender hands and I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her tiny form. She wept delicately into my shoulder and I did my very best to comfort her. She carefully removed herself from me and opened her mouth to speak.

'When I left Raoul, I was left completely alone and desperate. I moved back to Paris, mainly because I couldn't bear being away. I tried to take my mind of my troubles with education. I leant Ancient Greek and Latin. Then I started visiting the galleries. They both inspired and pained me.'

Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

'But I found a kind of solace in them, that's why I started creating art, even though it hurts.'

Although the years had been kind to her face, she bore no imperfections of skin; her eyes had an age to them that had not been there before. They were tinged with a kind of tired sorrow that I had never seen in her. What had made my angelic songbird act in a manner that was so beyond her years?

'How did you get this show?'

It was, to my mind, a very simple question. But she looked away with horror in her eyes. Maybe she had at last realised who she was talking to.

'I knew you would become disgusted with me within a short while' I sighed

'Oh angel, I am not, and have never been, disgusted with you. I am disgusted with myself.'

No part of my mind could fathom this information. How could this perfect creature possibly be disgusted with her wonderful self?

**AN – So what do you think? I haven't as of yet had any reviews so I am unsure as to whether I should continue this. Just a little note to say what you like/dislike would be much appreciated.**

**Skaramoosh x**


	3. Revelations

**Ars Gratia Artis – Chapter 3 – Revelations**

**AN – I am so terribly sorry for the ridiculously long wait. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

**Skaramoosh x**

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO**

Revelations

C POV  
I avoided his gaze and looked solemnly at the ceiling. I couldn't tell him, he would be so disappointed in me.

'Christine?'

Despite the years I still found it hard to deny him.

'The man who owns this venue... demands more a little more than money.'

'What do you mean?'

I buried my face in my hands, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Erik put his hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

'I slept with him, Erik. I slept with a man who I had only known for a day so that I could share my art.'

He rose to his feet and my eyes followed his gaze, tears breaking free from my previous determination.

'Well, I see. That changes things.'

He turned on his heel and began to walk away.

'No, Erik, please! Listen to me! There was nothing else I could do, I was desperate, please.'

He moved further away from me and it felt like he was taking my soul with him.

'Please, I've only just seen you again. Don't leave me angel.'

E POV  
I turned around when she called me that, it had been so long until anyone had compared me to any sort of heavenly creature. She was just standing there, and to my surprise she did not look like a sinful seductress. She looked like a frightened child. I couldn't leave her here, in the midst of all this madness. But I could not deny the world her art.

'Oh Christine.'

She fell to the floor before me, sobbing hysterically. I rushed to her side and embraced her.

'I'm sorry angel, I just had to show the world my art, and I had to prove I wasn't a failure.'

'I understand Christine, but... surely you could have gotten a different venue.'

She shook her head.

'This is the best venue in France, everybody knows it.'

She sighed and wiped her eyes.

'I guess you're going to leave now, aren't you?'

I touched her face. It was like touching the most perfect statue carved by an extremely skilled sculptor.

'Yes, I am leaving, but you, my little songbird, are coming with me.'

She head snapped up to meet mine.

'What! Erik you cannot just turn up and demand I elope with you!'

'Well you didn't want me to leave!'

She sighed.

'Couldn't you stay here? I have an apartment; it's only a short walk away.'

I stared at her in shock. Christine, my Christine welcoming me into her home. This was beyond anything I had ever dreamed of.

'Yes I suppose I could stay, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.'

'That's great Erik, now I need to mingle. Considering what I had to do to get this art show I need to get as much out of it as I can. Important people are here Erik, and if I get their attention it could mean good things for me.'

I could tell she was determined to make this work. I nodded and continued making my way through the gallery on my own. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Christine talking and laughing with several men, all of which looked very business-like. They had better not harm her or they'd have _me_ to deal with.

C POV  
When at long last the event was over I made my way over to Erik. I had found that having to be sociable with all these pompous businessmen to be very tiresome and I was looking forward to having my angel of music with me, even if it was only for a little while. I gathered all my things and we set off down the street to my apartment.

'Let me take those.'

He took my bags from me and we continued down the path. Suddenly a very tall man stepped out in front of us.

'I know what you did Madame Daaé.'

I kept calm; some ignorant man wasn't going to upset me today.

'That's no concern of yours, now would you please move out of our way.'

'No.'

He went to touch me but Erik stepped in front of me.

'If you touch her I will kill you.'

'Erik!'

The tall man ran away and Erik turned to face me.

'Erik, you can't go around threatening every man who goes near me!'

'I'm sorry Christine, it's just... I feel very protective of you.'

'I know.'

We carried on walking in silence until we reached my apartment door.

'Well, this is it.'

I unlocked the door and we stepped inside.

**AN – I realise this is short but I wanted to get this chapter out as I haven't updated in so long. I will try and get the next chapter written as soon as I can.**

**Skaramoosh x**


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